The Life and Death of a Hero
by XcruciatusX
Summary: This is a story about the life and death of Albus Dumbledore. There is tragic romance involved. No, not McGonagall. Rated T just. . . because. It's very sad, and slightly horrifying. It also explains what really happened with Grindelwald.
1. Part One: Beginnings of a Legend

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or ideas created in the proceeding Harry Potter novels. Anything you don't recognize in this version of events was most likely made up by me. The story was originally written by J.K. Rowling. This disclaimer goes for my entire story. So please don't steal it.**

**A/N: This is part one of three parts. Don't expect part two any time soon though. I'm about half way through it. Which means, of course, it will probably take twice as long to get the third and final part up. I can tell you now though, part one is Dumbledore's first year at Hogwarts, part two is his seventh, and part three is a mix of the rest. Hope you like it. Please read and review. Reviews will make my day. :) **

**The Life and Death of a Hero**

**Part One: Beginnings of a Legend **

Rain fell hard on the cottages of Little Hangleton. Two twinkling blue eyes looked dolefully out a window of the cottage that resided on the outskirts of the village. The eagerness that had been in those eyes few hours before, had faded slowly, now looking almost forlorn. The date was August the thirty first, Saturday evening, 1851. A gentle, wizened woman sidled in next to her youngest son, who sat mournfully by the window.

"Come now darling, it won't be that bad. My first day to school, believe it or not, it was snowing," she whispered. The twinkling blue eye's attention was averted.

"Really?" the boy asked incredulously. "Honest to goodness, _snowing?_" His mother smiled serenely, and nodded. She pushed back her son's blond hair and kissed his forehead, she too looking out the window.

"You're only eleven dear. Mark my words, there will be much worse than a bit of rain to spoil days, so don't let it get you down." She ruffled his hair again, and stood up. "Off to bed Albus. You've got a big day ahead of you; one you'll remember for the rest of your life."

The next day, sun broke out early, just barely showing itself through thick sheets of rain. Albus shivered as he sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes. It was very chilly in this particular cottage, the precise reason unknown. He pulled his blanket up to his neck, not wanting to get up just yet.

"Up, up, up!" shouted his mother, bustling into the room. She looked out the window. "The sun's up already Albus. You've got to get ready for the train! It leaves at eleven o'clock. Just because you've a big day doesn't mean you're skiving off chores!" Albus' mother had a severe look to her, and a heavy set jaw. His father had died in some freak accident when he was but three years of age, and could only remember his twinkling blue eyes, which people often pointed out that he had inherited. He looked up at his mother, who was filling a pot of water by his night stand.

"Come on, wash up. You haven't got all day." She left the room, as the sizzling of breakfast resounded from the kitchen. Albus pulled his covers tighter around his neck, as an exceptionally chilly draft made it's way through his open bedroom door.

Today was to be his very first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been longing to go ever since his brother first started attending. His brother was now a third year at school, and could to fancy little charms, that he so often reminded his younger brother. Aberforth crept into the room, a slight smirk on his dirty face.

"Mum says to wash up," he said.

"Well it doesn't look like _you_ have," Albus retorted.

"That, little bro, has nothing to do with our discussion. Mum said you'd say something like that though. That being the case," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he moved toward the basin of water, "she gave me permission to – dump this on your head!" A dreadful coldness rained on to him. He looked up at Aberforth, who had a conspicuously evil grin on his face now, and he ran out of the room laughing his head off. His mother walked back into the room, staring avidly towards the direction of Aberforth's diminishing footsteps down the hallway. She then snapped her attention back to Albus, who sat on his bed, with a disgruntled expression.

"Oh, what has he done this time? Aberforth! I told him to leave you alone. . . you have enough on your mind to be getting on with." Albus looked at his mother.

"I can take care of myself," he said, the faintest trace of a whine in his tone.

"Of course you can dear. . ." Her attention was obviously elsewhere. She was now attempting to tie her small feather-trimmed hat around her chin, as well as buttoning the front of her pleated dress, which was rather difficult.

"Mum, why are you dressing up? We're only going to King's Cross," Aberforth stated, now back in the room. His mother pretended not to here him.

"Come on now; breakfast's getting cold. Good gracious! Is that the time? You are packed, aren't you Albus?"

The Dumbledore family wasn't very well off. Ever since the death of their beloved father, things had gone quite astray. Money was always an issue, and most of their belongings were secondhand. They were probably the only wizarding family for miles, and the people in the small town of Little Hangleton seemed to suspect there was something odd about that family, and often kept their distance. Their clothes were rather shabby, and in fact, Mrs. Dumbledore's best outfit, which she was now wearing, was actually made out of her mother-in-law's old draperies. But they had just barely managed to scrape the last few galleons on Albus' new school supplies.

"Remember Albus, don't mess with the wrong sort!" Mrs. Dumbledore called after her son, who was now boarding the train, which was but mere seconds from departing the platform of nine and three quarters. "Particularly the Slytherins! Unless of course you become one," she added hastily. "Write me as soon as you've been sorted, and if you're having trouble with homework, or anything else you'd need help with. And Aberforth, _do_ try not to land yourself in detention, will you? I don't want another letter from the school saying you've been sneaking around after hours, or harassing girls, or calling people rude names --" Her voice faded into the distance as the train took speed.

"Come on, let's get a seat Aberforth," urged Albus, tugging on the back of his brother's shirt.

"Not with me you don't, little git. I don't want you embarrassing me in front of my friends."

"I didn't know you had friends," Albus said in an afterthought. It looked as though Aberforth hadn't heard, but he could've sworn the tips of his large floppy ears had turned pink.

Albus hurried along the corridor to find a free compartment. He found one at the very end that was vacant, and sat down, pulling his trunk along behind him. It was nearly as big as he was. He first attempted to put it on the rack, but found that it was far too heavy, and he wasn't even tall enough for that matter. He set his owl's cage down in the seat beside him, and his trunk in the other. His owl, Cygnus, was a snowy white owl, who had never once made a sound, as far as Albus knew. He supposed it was just in her nature, but it did seem a tad odd.

The train sped on. Every so often somebody would walk past Albus' compartment, not looking twice in his direction. Would he be as lucky making friends as Aberforth? Cygnus turned her round auburn eyes on him, and ruffled her feathers. Albus looked deep into her eyes, and his went slowly out of focus. A sudden thud brought him out of his reverie. Someone had just slid open the compartment door. A girl with a pail complexion, dark hair, and a somewhat smug expression walked jauntily in, flanked by four other girls who looked suspiciously like body guards.

"Hello," she said briskly, in the air that she meant no courtesy. "_I'm_ Desdemona Grindelwald. That's Grin–del–vald. I've been going through the train introducing myself to my classmates – or, fellow first years." She consulted a piece of parchment in her right hand. "You must be. . . Albus Dumblydore."

"Oh, hello," Albus said quickly, wiping his hand on his pants before offering it. "And, it's actually _Dumbledore._"

"I don't really care," the girl replied, a sneer forming on her pointed face as she looked down at his hand, but made no movement to shake it. She was very pretty, but somehow the cold expression overtook that feature. Albus' hand drooped slowly, finally falling back to his side.

"This is Genevieve," she said, tilting her head slightly to the left. "This is Jocelyn," this time to the right. Both these girls had thick arms, and looked as though they were capable of pounding even Aberforth to a pulp. They also looked as though they quite wanted to do just that.

"_This_ is Arabella," she said, as a girl from behind her stepped forward. Her smirk was so distinct, it looked rather foolish. "And this is Jadis," pointing to the last of the five. It looked like these last two were more of her friends, for they were much prettier than the first two that had been introduced. The Genevieve and Jocelyn leered rather stupidly before taking Desdemona's lead in sneering, and finally exiting.

Aberforth was the only other person to come and say hi to Albus, but at least he wasn't coming to make a threat.

"Hey little bro, this is my pal Henry." he gestured towards another third year boy entering the compartment after him.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, holding out his gloved hand. "Aberforth speaks most highly of you," he said pompously.

"Oh, don't fool yourself Henry," Aberforth said, beginning to laugh. For a few seconds there, Albus actually thought what Henry had said was true. When he looked up, he saw that both boys were laughing now.

"Just kiddin' ickle Albus. You're alright," he said, ruffling his brother's hair. _Does everyone have to mess with my hair?_ Albus thought. He quickly smoothed it back down, and took a bite out of his pork sandwich, which was a little soggy.

"Well, I did come here for a reason, little bro. You see, I, unlike you, have finished my sandwich. And I, unlike you, am a growing young man," he said, now taking on Henry's mockingly pompous tone. (Henry snorted.) "So, I think I'll just be taking that." He made a grab for the sandwich, and was gone just as quickly as he had come, not turning back even at the shouts of indignation coming from his hungry little brother.

By now, it was nightfall, and the stars started to twinkle with delight, knowing that it was their time to shine. The rain had at last come to a cease. Albus pressed his nose against the window, looking longingly into the sky. It was his lifelong dream to become an astronomer.

He was greatly looking forward to the class of this subject, which, luckily, was mandatory at Hogwarts, likewise being offered to first years. The train came to a sudden halt, and the rumbling of hundreds of students could be heard moving along the corridor. Since Albus was in the very last compartment, he decided to wait a few moments before even attempting to make it through the slow-moving crowd.

He quickly changed into his school robes, and sat back down to wait. Many carriages were waiting just outside the platform, carrying students that were coming back to Hogwarts. Aberforth had told Albus that the first years rode in small boats across the lake. He was never sure when to believe him though.

The carriages. . . they were being drawn by strange, obviously magical creatures. They looked vaguely similar to horses, but surely that wasn't what they were? They were skeletal, black, winged creatures, who looked exceptionally eerie in the moonlight.

By now, the distant shuffle of footsteps had died down slightly, so Albus tore his eyes away from the strange creatures, and took hold of Cygnus' cage, and his trunk, and joined the queue that was waiting to get off the Hogwarts Express.

A cold breeze mixed with water stung his face as Albus stepped off the train.

"First years! This way please," came a squeaky little voice. Albus followed it, and was soon being pushed onto a little boat with a few other first years already aboard. Almost the exact second he had stepped on, the boat began to magically row itself across the deep black lake. Mist fogged his vision, but it looked like a great mass loomed ahead. Could this be the castle of Hogwarts? It looked like it was on some kind of island, but if it was, how could it be connected to 'The Forbidden Forest' which Aberforth had once mentioned?

Perhaps it was more of a peninsula. Yes, that would make sense. Albus doubted whether Aberforth even knew what a peninsula was, so it's no wonder he had said it was an island. The question was, how is it that Muggles didn't notice? Where was Hogwarts? Why isn't it on maps? A tap on his shoulder broke his train of thought.

"Hello. Gideon Peak. What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Albus Dumbledore. Nice to meet you," he added. His mother had always taught him that manners were very important, especially when first meeting someone. Gideon had small beady eyes, a scrunched up nose, and wavy reddish brown hair. A girl at the front of the boat turned around.

"Elizabeth Cartridge," she said kindly, offering her hand. She had white blond hair and a freckly nose.

"I'm Oliver Cromwell," said another boy, who looked like he was already friends with Gideon. A timid looking girl with mousy brown hair, who noticed everyone else was making introductions, looked as though she felt obligated to do the same.

"I'm – I'm Melantha Dippet," she squeaked.

"So, does anyone know what house they'll get sorted into?" Oliver asked. "Well, I guess no one would know for sure, but you probably have a pretty good guess. I think I'll be put in Gryffindor, or else Ravenclaw."

"I hope I'll be put in Ravenclaw," Elizabeth sighed. "Did that prat Grindelwald bother anyone besides me?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, she seemed rather threatening, don't you think? I have a feeling we haven't heard the last from her," Gideon said. "There's usually a great deal of rivalry between classmates, no matter the house. Years are the only thing to separate."

The boats slowly but surely made their way up to the looming castle. The water rippled as something tore through it. Albus had a faint suspicion that it was the giant squid he had heard about. He shuddered at the thought. First years all around looked fearful, and a tad drowsy from the boat ride. They made their way slowly up the a path leading to the magnificent castle entrance. It was a beautiful sight to at last lay eyes upon.

There were great turrets everywhere above, and through the windows, Albus could just make out what looked like the glow of hundreds of candles. The door creaked open as the man with the squeaky voice lead them on. The Entrance Hall was just to the left, so they were obviously using some sort of side entrance. But from what he could make out, Albus saw that the Entrance Hall was much more significant than even his mother had said. There was a spiral staircase that lead up to many floors above, which had moving staircases. He didn't have much time to linger, for the rest of the first years were already getting ahead of him. There were going down a side corridor that was rather dark.

"Hurry along! This way please!" the little old man said. "Professor Bagnold will take you from here," he said as a very young pretty witch joined them down the corridor.

"Welcome first years, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those of you who know the policies and traditions of this school, forgive me as I give a brief summary to those who don't.

"Now, when you first arrive at Hogwarts, you are sorted into a house. In a few moments, I will lead you into the Great Hall, where such a ceremony will take place. You will then join the other students of that house, and you will be somewhat of a team, or a family. For your good doings, you will earn house points, for any faults, or misdoings, you will lose house points.

She pointed to four hourglasses by the wall behind her, each filled with differently colored jewels.

"The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I'm sure where ever you end up, you will make your house proud. You will have many teachers, all of which you will refer to as 'Professor.' In your third year, you will be able to choose an elective class. In the proceeding years though, you will be taking Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic. Any questions?"

Albus tentatively raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Um, could you tell me who – who teaches Astronomy?" he queried. Professor Bagnold smiled.

"That would be myself. Do you have a particular interest?" Albus nodded shyly.

"Alright then. Follow me," she said, addressing them all again. They marched into the Great Hall, which was by all means, much more magnificent then the Entrance Hall, all peering fearfully over their shoulders, and looking at the eagerly waiting hundreds of students sitting at four long tables, each distinguished by a differently colored table-runner.

"Now when I call your name, you will come up here, sit on the stool, and I will place the sorting hat on you head. Once you have been sorted, you will then join your classmates at the appropriate table."

What next happened made Albus start. The hat sitting on the stool for which Professor Bagnold had gestured towards ripped in the middle. The seam that was tearing broke into a sort of mouth. And then it began to sing!

"_Welcome students_

_New or returning._

_I have a story_

_To increase your learning._

_Back to the beginning _

_Of the school we go,_

_For a lesson in history;_

_Don't say no!_

_It started with an idea_

_Of teaching magic,_

_To children like you_

_Who so often wreak havoc._

_Four friends had an idea_

_To share what they knew._

_To start a school, _

_And forever it should grow._

_Through the generations_

_Their knowledge should spread,_

_So in the near future_

_You could teach instead!_

_Don't skimp on the homework,_

_The essays or the reading,_

_So one day you could teach_

_Astronomy, Potions, _

_Or even Game Keeping!_

_Set me atop your head_

_Snug and tight_

_So I can decide_

_Where you'll sleep tonight!_

_It need not matter_

_To which house you go._

_But on your tests_

_Try and get an O!"_

Immense, thunderous applause swept the hall like a hurricane. Before Albus knew it --

"Black, Cassiopeia!" Professor Bagnold said loud and clearly, reading from a scroll of parchment.

"SLYTHERIN!" Thunderous applause.

"Borgin, Jadis!" One of Grindelwald's cronies walked rather sulkily towards the stool.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted. There were louder cheers coming from a certain table that had a green runner, and Albus suspected this must be the Slytherin table. Alas, that is where Jadis sulked off to.

"Burke, Arabella!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Cartridge, Elizabeth!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" This time the student scurried off to the table on the opposite end of the hall. Albus would have let his mind wander, but he was only one letter away.

"Cromwell, Oliver!" Oliver gave a bored look to Gideon, and sat on the stool, letting the hat fall clear over his face.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Oliver looked quite relieved upon reappearance, and he headed towards the table with the red and gold runner.

"Dippet, Melantha!" The timid looking girl with the mousy hair gave a horrified glance to the other students around her, finally walking towards her fate.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat roared. Everyone cheered.

"Driscol, Jocelyn!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Dumbledore, Albus!" Albus froze in mid thought, even though he wasn't quite sure what he had been thinking about. Somehow he sensed that every eye in the hall was upon him. A ringing formed in his ears. Gideon poked him hard in the back, which sort of woke him up. He walked numb-legged towards the hat, now back on the stool, having just sorted a student. He put it on, and it muffled out all sound from the hall, which made it quite nice. A little, distant voice sounded in his ears, that could be recognized as that of the hat, only Albus was sure he alone could hear it this time.

"Hmm. You're more one for. . . Astronomy, Transfiguration, Legilimency, Alchemy. . . Brilliant mind, very determined, and loyal. You must show that you can achieve your end. . . Ravenclaw? No, no, any house would work. . . How 'bout --"

"GRYFFINDOR!" This voice resounded through out the hall. The hat was pulled off his head, and he suddenly panicked, not knowing which table was Gryffindor's, and noticing just how many people were staring at him. Before announcing the next student, Professor Bagnold pointed towards one of the middle tables, which on second glance, Albus noticed that Aberforth was sitting at. He scurried away, and sat down across from Oliver.

"Grindelwald, Desdemona!" The rude girl from the train walked towards the Sorting Hat and Albus noticed her prideful stature as she sat down. _What a prat,_ he thought. The hat had barely touched the top of her head before --

"SLYTHERIN!" Dreadful applause, more of jeering and hissing broke out at the green and silver table. Many, many more students were sorted, and Albus' stomach rumbled painfully. Only did the sorting get interesting when another one of Grindelwald's cronies sat on the stool. It was the thick-armed Genevieve Smith. What threw everyone for a loop was --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Genevieve had had her eyes clenched tight, but they suddenly popped open. Many Slytherins booed, and Grindelwald herself looked utterly revolted, her eyes somewhat bulging. Genevieve looked pleadingly at her, but eventually made it to the Hufflepuff table. After the sorting ceremony was complete, in which the house of Slytherin received many more students than the rest, Albus glanced up at the Staff Table, which was at the front of the Great Hall facing the students. Every face was unfamiliar, except for Professor Bagnold, who was smiling at random students. At the very middle of the Staff Table, there was a high backed seat. In it was what looked like the Headmaster, also an unfamiliar face. The man had sleek black hair, a clever look about him, and a pointed beard. There was an elaborate hat placed precariously atop his head, which looked more for decoration rather than whatever else one might want a hat for. He stood up, but no one seemed to notice.

"_Ahem,_" he said. Still, no response whatsoever. This time he conducted a very pronounced cough, almost as if he was choking. Silence swept the hall as everyone's head snapped his direction.

"There now, that wasn't too hard, was it? Well, you should all know the school rules by now, so I don't want to have to repeat them every year. Got it?" A stately looking witch to his left gave him a haughty, almost disapproving look.

"Oh, alright then, why don't _you_ share the rules, shall you?" he asked the witch testily. This looked to be precisely what she wanted. Without any hesitation, she stood up.

"Welcome to another year," she said abruptly. "I am Professor Evelyn Prince, the Potions Mistress. As most of you should know, this is your Headmaster, Professor Phineas Nigellus, who teaches Charms." Albus heard Henry and Aberforth whispering something about a secret society some Ravenclaw had formed, hoping to actually learn some charms, but was trying his hardest not to let his mind wander, especially while a professor was addressing the entire school.

"Would you all kindly welcome aboard several new professors this year," she continued, without changing her raspy intonation, to at least give the impression that this was a question. "We have Professors Millicent Bagnold, of the Astronomy Department, and our new head of Ravenclaw, Tessie Prewett, Herbology, and Armando Dippet, Defense Against the Dark Arts, head of Gryffindor. We also have great honor in welcoming Viscount Abraxas Malfoy and his wife Lady Dounia as the new Healers of the Hospital Wing.

At this, many Slytherins gave tumultuous applause. Perhaps they used to be Slytherins, but Albus didn't want to judge them just for that. After all, he only had a crude idea of what Slytherins were like.

"To all first years, note that the forest on the grounds id forbidden to all pupils. For further rules, please go to Mr. Humphrey Donovan, our Caretaker and Gamekeeper. Let the feast begin!"

Though most students were probably quite accustomed to this, many still gasped as the hundreds of gold plates and goblets magically filled with delicious food and drink. Albus let his concentration falter slightly, and now heard Henry and Aberforth still jabbering away.

". . .from St. Mungo's. They were some of the best Healers there. I don't know why they would want to come to Hogwarts," Henry was saying.

"I bet Professor Nigellus gave them a hefty bribe," said Aberforth. "I heard old Prince telling Slughorn that Nigellus wanted to "freshen up the staff a bit." From what I could tell, she greatly disapproved. She also went into a rant about getting a higher up job, because she spent her summer devising the entire school schedule. I think she wants to take over – soon. She's just waiting for him to die."

Albus ate as much food as he could, until he absolutely couldn't fit in another bite. The food was perfect. It was all warm, and had wonderful new flavors his mother could have never afforded to buy. He didn't even have room for dessert when it came.

"What were you saying earlier about a secret society?" he inquired. Aberforth looked at him, and sighed.

"Well, if you were listening properly, you would already know. I guess I'll have to repeat myself though. James Cromwell, a fifth year Ravenclaw prefect made it up. Rubbish, if you ask me, but let's just say he's made several lady friends out of it. You know Olivia Salisbury?" he asked Henry. "They're going out. Man, I wish I could go out with a girl as pretty as her. She's a fourth year. She's also Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," he said, this time addressing Albus again. "Anyway, James came up with this freak idea to plot against the entire Charms class. His secret society is called Charms Haters Are Really Mucky Slytherins."

"You see, the initials spell out the word Charms," Henry piped up.

"Why is he plotting against the Charms class?" Albus asked curiously.

"Didn't you know? Nigellus, the Headmaster, is the teacher. Another point to Prince. Yeah, so his class is complete rubbish. _He's_ a complete bloke. No one learns anything in that class of his, so I guess Cromwell's got the right idea with his little club, but he uses it as a way to meet girls," Aberforth said. "I think he mentioned something about his brother coming this year, Cromwell, I mean. Though I wouldn't know; I wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah, his brother's Oliver, a Gryffindor," Albus said, only to realize that nobody was listening.

"Hey Aberforth? What did the Sorting Hat say to you?" Aberforth and Henry turned around again.

"Said I was interested in goats, it did. Said I was 'The Inquisitive Type,'" he said reminiscently. "Why?"

"Oh, just wondering. What's Legilimency?" Aberforth looked genuinely perplexed, a look that well suited him.

"It's like mind reading," said Henry, staring at Albus in a different light. "Only, that's what Muggles call it. It's really tricky. You have to take some kind of Ministry approved course or something, either that or snag some books from the Restricted Section of the library. I daresay it wouldn't be too hard, what with Madam Macmillan on the job."

He continued to talk, but for once, Albus wasn't paying attention. _Mind reading,_ he thought. _Like, being able to tell when someone's lying. Maybe I _will_ go to the library first chance I get._

Rain had vanished without leaving even the faintest trace. The sun broke out early, shining right into Albus' eyes, even through the bed hangings. He opened his eyes, tore back the hangings, and let his feet fall to the ground. Instead of the icy chill that would have met them had he been at his own house, the floor was pleasantly warm. It was five thirty in the morning, and classes didn't start until eight. Albus usually got up early in order to go star gazing, but he felt like spending the morning leisurely, so he wouldn't be tense for his first class.

He made it down to the Great Hall, where a few teachers were already sitting down to breakfast. This would be a great opportunity to introduce himself, and make a good impression. He walked towards the Staff Table, and found someone to greet. Professor Bagnold was just sitting down.

"Good morning Professor Bagnold. Remember me? I'm Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh, hello Mr. Dumbledore. Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one interested in Astronomy?"

"Yes, I was. The subject simply fascinates me," Albus replied, glad to able to make a reasonable conversation.

"Well I do hope you're good at it. Then maybe you could persuade your brother to do the same. I received full student descriptions from the previous teacher, and he seems to lack interest," she said, smiling, as she helped herself to some bacon and eggs.

Breakfast was definitely a pleasant affair, in which Albus was able to make small talk with several other students. He was glad that Gideon and Oliver were in Gryffindor, because at least he knew who they were, and they shared a bedroom. There were a few other boys in his dormitory, all of which kept mostly to themselves.

Fifteen minutes before the first period class, Potions, Albus left the library where he had been, and made his way down to the dungeons where the classes were to be. The dungeons were rather dank and chilly, and exceptionally dark. A gathering of students was already waiting outside the door. Apparently, the Gryffindors were to have Potions with the Slytherins, or at least, their scarves were green. Albus was wearing his scarf too, and made a note in his mind never to forget it on days when he had this class.

The dungeon door creaked open, but no one was on the other side. Albus seemed to be the only one that found this peculiar, for the other students simply entered the class room. Everyone chose a desk to sit at, and propped his or her cauldron on it, and let their bags for to the floor with a dull clunk. Professor Prince was sitting behind her desk, watching them all with a smirk spreading across her face. She was most likely in her early forties, and she had short black hair that was slightly greasy. A candle flickering on her desk showed her sharp beetle-like eyes.

"Another year," she said softly, and everything fell deathly silent. "Another year. . . First years are always just a bunch of babbling bumbling baboons. Prove me wrong. I dare you. In fact, I beg of you to prove me wrong." Albus was listening intently, hoping very much to prove this teacher wrong.

"Now, wands away. Potions is an intricate, even delicate subject, that I feel wrong teaching to such dunderheads. So please, do as you're told. The potion can have virtually any effect. I'm here to show you how to use that great power wisely." She swept her eyes across the class, and the last fell on Albus.

"Today we will learn a simple solution enabling the drinker to be prone to a certain attentiveness. No. . . only joking. I wish it were that simple. And I wish I was permitted to give you such a solution. Alas, in real life you won't have a potion to help you correctly make a more complicated one. Of coarse, you wouldn't want me giving you the idea that real life is simple, would you? I daresay it's just as complex as potions, if not more so. This is real life. I don't want you muttering silly incantations. I want you to learn to appreciate the simmering cauldron and it's great power. You can bewitch the mind, and captivate the soul, and even control the senses.

"The solution you will be brewing today is the shrinking solution. Yes, it is highly advanced Mr. Cromwell," she said, looking at Oliver's expression of horrified revulsion. "You do think you can manage, don't you? Well, here are the instructions, let's see how well you follow them." At that, directions for the shrinking solution magically appeared on the chalkboard.

Albus read and reread each line perhaps a dozen times, and the result was that his potion was misting the exact color described in his book which was propped up against his cauldron. Professor Prince looked down her nose at his finished potion, and nodded.

"Can you read Mr. Dumbledore?" she asked sarcastically, scribbling something in cramped handwriting on a clipboard. A few people laughed, including Grindelwald.

"Yes," said Albus politely.

"Well then, perhaps you could read the sub heading of this potion's instructions for me," she said icily. Albus' heart sank.

"Draught of Hellebore," he said resentfully.

"Precisely. This particular shrinking solution is more commonly known as the Draught of Hellebore. And do you know why I asked you to read that line for me?"

"Because I forgot to put Hellebore in my potion," he said, every trace of enthusiasm that had existed at the start of class was now gone.

"Precisely. See me after class Dumbledore." Gideon looked at Albus, who was sitting next to him. He gave a puzzled expression, and resumed work. Grindelwald was still shaking with silent laughter, which Prince took absolutely no notice to.

Class ended after what seemed like an eternity. Albus made his way to the front of the class, as everyone else made for the door after the bell had rung. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grindelwald and her cronies sitting defiantly in their seats, as if expecting an entertaining show to come on.

"Well Mr. Dumbledore. For extra homework, I suggest you make me a double batch of the Draught of Hellebore, due on Monday. You may make it before class if you wish. I would like a foot of parchment on what precisely you did wrong today, and how you will improve in the future. I will tell you now Mr. Dumbledore, I do not tolerate poor potion-making."

"But Professor," Albus said, unable to stop himself. "The potion looked exactly as it should have. How did you know there was no hellebore? What difference does it make?"

"What difference does it make? My silly boy, do use your common sense! It's the effect of the potion that would differ, whether the appearance does or not!"

"Well then what good would it do to write an essay about what I did wrong?"

"Are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" Albus turned on his heel and left the classroom without a backwards glance. Grindelwald caught up with him before he could get away. She was still laughing with uncontrollable glee at seeing someone humiliated.

"What was that Dumbo? I thought you were supposed to be smart! I can't believe they accepted a Muggle loving fool like you at Hogwarts. I heard what you're like; always spending your time with filthy Muggles and Mudbloods. It's despicable. Seriously, _I_ was accepted at _three_ different schools. See, my Mum went to Beauxbatons, so she wanted me to go there, my dad went to Durmstrang, but he wanted me to go to Akademie Vom Reinen. As a compromise, I came here." She was smirking broadly.

"You should have gone to Durmstrang," Albus said, hoping against hope she would stop following him.

"That's a boys school," said Grindelwald at once.

"Oh, I know." That got rid of her. The look of mingled fury on her face, surprisingly, was not all that settling. Upsetting people didn't give Albus pleasure. And of course, she'd want revenge for that perfect retort of his. Heading to the greenhouses made a considerable distance between them next period, which eased him slightly.

Herbology was much more pleasant then Potions, by far. Potions had been with the Slytherins, and with the Head of Slytherin. Herbology was with the Hufflepuffs, and Head of Hufflepuff. Professor Prewett was very nice, and talked quite a bit. She seemed to already have a favorite student though. Elizabeth Cartridge, apparently, had already proved that she was quite talented in the are of Herbology. Whenever someone did something wrong, such as letting their Mandrake bite them, as Albus had, she would throw a disgusted look in their direction. Albus wasn't sure who, but someone had told them that the work they were doing was quite advanced for their level.

Transfiguration indeed proved to be a strong suit for Albus. In one fell swoop of his wand, a match turned into a full shining hat pin. Professor Horatio Slughorn was a beefy, almost walrus-like man, who took a quick liking to Albus. He was very pleased with himself, but, all the same, he made a mental note that if he ever became a teacher, he would never show the slightest bit of favoritism.

It proved common knowledge that Professor Prince was quite bias towards Gryffindors. She would randomly dock points from them, and practically give them to Slytherin, her own house. The next Potions class, she took twenty points from Albus for not setting his book down on his desk gently. It had caused a dull clunk. Grindelwald, who proved to be a sort of arch rival, looked hysterical at that point.

Astronomy was always Albus' favorite class. The ceiling in the classroom was enchanted so that no matter what time of day, it would block out the sun so you could see it as it would be at night. They studied many constellations the first term, and by the end Albus had memorized all the ones ever mentioned in that class. One of his favorites was Cygnus the swan, which is where he had gotten the name for his owl. The teacher, Professor Bagnold, was Albus' favorite teacher.

Charms was the most ridiculous class. It was taught by the Headmaster. Albus was sure he wasn't the only one who didn't learn anything in there, so he took a stand. Instead of joining James Cromwell's secret society, he simply went to the library and checked out three books a week on the subject, and felt he learned adequate informing to be going on by. He felt ensured that he would do just fine on the end of year exams.

October went by as quickly as it had come, with it bringing chilly weather, and Halloween. The Halloween feast was a highly anticipated event of the school year. There was much talk and excitement going on, and Albus heard that the food on that night was simply ravishing. He couldn't think of anything that could top the Start of Term feast, but then again, he was only a first year.

Professor Armando Dippet seemed a good fit for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. Early in the year, Albus found out that Melantha Dippet was his daughter. The first class had clearly demonstrated why his daughter was so timid. The dark things she'd seen. . . It was enough to make anyone timid. Albus felt he was doing fairly well in that class, seeing as though most of his grades were Os (outstanding). They were covering all sorts of dark enchantments and creatures in the class. Usually they had to write one essay a week. It wasn't too hard, but it would push them to their limit, which, in Albus' opinion, was just the right amount.

Grindelwald was best to be avoided, at all costs. She was capable of conjuring the nastiest of insults; things you could never even imagine. "Frog spawn" was her default insult, though she usually just called Albus "Dumbo." She could often be heard calling people Mudbloods, and Albus just assumed that the person she was making fun of was Muggle born.

Albus was very persistent with his homework and studies. He felt that if he had been accepted at such a school, like the Sorting Hat had said, he shouldn't take it for granted. This was his opportunity to learn all he could, and he was determined to make the best of it. He was already practicing complicated potions, and highly advanced (N.E.W.T. Level) charms. He found the opportune place to practice these: in a deserted corridor on the seventh floor. Nobody ever went up there, so Albus could leave his bubbling cauldron up there during classes and come back after dinner. He had only ever broken one school rule; during Herbology he snipped a leaf of the plant they were studying, planted it on the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, and after it grew again, he picked it during the full moon in order to add it as an ingredient to one of his current potions. He didn't feel at all right after doing so, but he was merely getting extra studying in.

"Hey, Dumbo!" a voice rang out one evening. Albus swiveled around. He was on the seventh floor brewing another potion. _How could that ape find me up here?_ Albus thought desperately, trying to figure this out. Grindelwald walked over to him, her eyes darting in all directions, taking in the scene around her.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" she hissed.

"Where are your cronies today, Grindelwald?" Albus asked, hoping she would abandon the subject of this curious scene.

"Now, now. I prefer the term aficionados, don't you? Sounds more. . . dignified. Anyway, what are you doing? Professor Prince was looking for you. She said your essay on the effects of frog spawn, and how your resemblance to it is uncanny, was unsatisfactory, and she was wondering whether you wrote it, or you got some animal to write it for you." Her sneer was quite defined, and she knew it.

"Well, why don't you tell Professor Prince that I was just getting in some extra practice, and that I'm ever so dreadfully sorry she was disappointed in my writing skills. I dare say, I could use a bit of improvement." It took a great deal of courage and patience to say what he just said. Every impulse wanted so badly to curse Grindelwald, but something told him that would not be a good idea. Speaking of which, her expression had changed to a dumbstruck look. She had most likely been expecting him to explode with anger.

Halloween came and went, as did Christmas, and Easter, and everything else. They all blurred together to Albus, because his full intent was on his studies. He was most anxious about approaching exams. He filled out a dozen star charts, in pure anxiety, on the week end proceeding the tests. He felt highly prepared, but still, he had this feeling that if he failed. . . the world would think differently of him.

They exams came and went, just as everything else had. Albus gave a sigh of relief upon completion, proud of himself for making it this far. He had even answered all the extra credit questions offered, and felt confident that he had not only supplied the correct answers, but gave them in full, descriptive detail. It was only the fifth and seventh years that took exams offered by Ministry of Magic officials. Albus couldn't wait till the day when he got to do that.

On the train going home, Albus, again, gave a great sigh of relief. He had successfully made it through his very first year at Hogwarts. He would go home for the summer, and spend time with his mother, but then he would come right back to Hogwarts. He would very much miss it there. It was like his home. He felt very comfortable there. It was a feeling that couldn't be explained.

"Mum! I missed you so much," Albus said as he joined the crowd getting off the train at platform nine and three quarters. He gave her a big hug, and her eyes leaked with happiness.

"I got letters from your teachers Albus. They were all raving about you. Oh darling, I'm so proud!" Aberforths's face broke into a horrified grimace. Apparently, he hadn't known of Albus' secret escapades to the seventh floor corridor.

Albus noticed that his mother's face looked much older, and there was a shock of white in her hair. He gave a puzzled look, but she turned away before he could inquire.

They reached home in Little Hangleton before long, but it didn't really seem like home.

"Hey mum, you look old," Aberforth stated.

"Why thank you Aberforth," she replied testily.

"No, I didn't mean --"

"I know fully well what you meant – you couldn't have made it plainer!" Albus and Aberforth exchanged baffled looks.

"Oh, I'm sorry boys," she sighed. "It's just. . . Ministry officials have been disappearing, and there have been funny people about. I think it's the same lot who. . ." she drifted off, looking in mid air, with a misted expression. Albus knew she was about to say that it had been the same lot that had murdered his father. He had suspected for years that that's what happened. He could always tell when his mother wasn't being entirely truthful.

The summer slipped by quickly. Gideon and Oliver had promised to write, but is was only towards the end of summer did they take up on their promise. Someone else wrote to Albus, but he didn't know who. Whoever it was had put Bubotuber Pus in the envelope, which caused gigantic boils to erupt on Albus' hands. He only knew what it was because he recognized the symptoms, for they had been described in a potion he almost decided to make, only before noticing one of the ingredients was off limits. His mother used a few charms to clean his hands, and wrapped the heavily in bandages. She only asked once who sent it to him, but he answered truthfully, and she believed him. See, that was why he didn't lie. He couldn't bare to break that bondage of truth.

A week before the return trip, the Dumbledore family made a visit to Diagon Alley. They purchased their new school robes, potion ingredients from the Apothecary (a few of which weren't on the school list), and books from Flourish and Blott's.

"Hey mum, is it all right if I head over to Scrivenshafts? I don't need new quills, but I was gonna meet Henry there," Aberforth said. He scurried off, while Albus pressed his nose to store windows, peering longingly at the items on the other side.

"Now honey, is there anything else you need? I really can't afford much more," Mrs. Dumbledore said sadly, looking at her son who looked sadly back at her.

"No. I don't need anything else. Could I just walk around a bit?"

"Sure Albus. Meet me back in the Leaky Cauldron in an hour." Albus walked around for a quarter of an hour, peering in windows as usual, and looking at books. He decided to go back to Flourish and Blott's to get some books that weren't on his reading list. He had saved just enough galleons to buy a book or two. He flipped through the pages of a book titled _Legilimency for the Unfogged Mind. _It was all about the basics of the subject, including that the base was eye contact. It was dire when determining the difference between truth and lies.

"Interested in Legilimency, are you?" asked one of the employees. I'd go with this one sonny. It covers not only the basics, but it also dabbles in Occlumency, it's brother subject. They intertwine unceasingly." Albus flipped through the pages, and had to admit, it was far more detailed on the art of both subjects.

"Did you get my card?" asked a cold voice hissing in his ear. He looked up, and there was Grindelwald.

"Oh yes. Jolly nice of you to write," Albus replied cheerfully. She looked down, and smirked at his bandaged hands.

"You know, I wanted to talk to you. We really got off to the wrong start. I just want you to know, that I'm in charge. What I say goes. I don't care what you think, or what you try to do about it. You are a filthy Muggle loving fool. I here you've been friendly with that Mudblood Bagnold. You're messing with the wrong sort. If you happen to run in to Peak or Cromwell, best pass the message along. I wouldn't want them running off with the wrong idea about me. That would be most unpleasant. Now, I want you to stop being a perfect little teacher's pet, and lay low. I'm the good one. Got it?"

"You would do best to keep your distance Ms. Grindelwald. I know some magic you couldn't dream of. I wouldn't want you getting the wrong idea of me," Albus said coolly.

"Gryffindors are scum. Things are going to be very different this year, got it Dumbledore?" Grindelwald said, icy venom forming in her eyes.


	2. Part Two: Essence of Death

**Disclaimer: I think you know I'm not JKR, but it's okay if you pretend I am. ;) **

**A/N: This isn't as long as the last part, but I was anxious to get it posted. It will probably take a long time to get the final part up, because I'm at a somewhat crucial point in my education. I mean, I just finished this part like three minutes ago.  
No flames please. I'm happy with the outcome of this chapter, so, yeah... Enjoy!**

**Part Two  
Essence of Death**

The years went on, just as any other. Albus was now a seventh year. Grindelwald had held to her promise about being in charge, which caused grief to anyone who was most unfortunate to attend school in any of the seven years between 1851 and 1858. She proved greatly intelligent, and ranked the same number of O.W.L.s in their fifth year. She had out done him in Transfiguration, a class in which he was most brilliant, and shown him up in Astronomy, surprising everyone. When no one was around though, she turned quite nasty, and threatened Albus not to blow her cover nearly every chance she got. Albus wasn't even quite sure how one would go about blowing her cover, and wasn't even sure what her cover was. Grindelwald was quite brilliant, he had to admit, but why she was acting so strangely was a complete mystery.

There had been no new teachers at Hogwarts over the years, except there was talk that the Headmaster, Phineas Nigellus, was thinking of doing the school a favor, and at last retiring. Professor Prince was heard to be keen to move in on his job, though it wasn't entirely up to her. Professor Dippet said he wouldn't mind applying for the job one day, but wasn't sure he was ready for such a task at the time.

Meanwhile, the focus of this year at school was the N.E.W.T. Exams, to take place at the end of summer term. It was a ways away, yes, but to much studying never did Albus any harm. Now to say it couldn't do any harm at all would be a false statement; many seventh years had been taken to the Hospital Wing for stress attacks, and too much pressure just building up. "Don't let more than one day attack you at once," Gideon was heard telling Oliver in the Common Room one evening.

"Well, if you end up in the Hospital Wing, make sure you ask for Lady Dounia. Viscount Abraxas is a complete nutter. He'll cart you away and put you in a strait jacket if you're not careful, and to top it off, he'll try testing some of his funky concoctions on you."

"Lady Dounia is preferable, yes, but she's not a bag full of happiness you know. She's right nasty at heart," Gideon replied dully. "No wonder the Slytherins were all cheering when they started work here."

"I don't know how you two can be babbling at such a crucial time in your education. With the N.E.W.T. exams a near two months away, you should be studying any chance you get. The results of this test may make or break your career path," Albus said, peering over the top of an enormous book titled _Numerology and Gramatica._

"Oh, you're know fun Albus. Do you really have to be studying every second of the day?" Oliver asked, ever so slightly in a mocking sort of way.

"Yes!" he replied, setting down the book he was reading, and picking up another (_Moste Potente Potions)._ After about fifteen minutes, he changed his mind and instead picked up _Advanced Potion Making _by Libatius Borage. He had recently overheard Professor Prince telling Professor Slughorn that in her seventh year Potions class, they would soon be doing a project that involved having a partner. Somehow, Albus got the feeling that he would end up doing all the work on the project, no matter who he might end up with.

"Dumbledore, Grindelwald; Dippet, Peak. . ." The names were called by Professor Prince, in Potions on Tuesday. Albus started to put his things in his bag so he could go over to Grindelwald's table, but instead, she came to his.

"Well, Head Boy and Head Girl, best in Potions, let's see how we do as partners," said Grindelwald, her pronounced smirk showing itself yet again.

"Now that you've all got your assigned partners, please listen carefully. This project accounts for twenty five percent of your grade. You are to first choose a potion adequate to earn such points, and I don't mean seventh year level. If you wish to gain my approval, I would advise choosing a complex potion, that you have not yet learned in this class. You all have my personal permission to use books from the Restricted Section of the library. That's _Potions_ books only. Please put every effort into this project. It is due in precisely one month. Any questions?"

"Yes. How can you ensure that both partners put in the same amount of effort?" Melantha asked.

"That, Miss Dippet, is entirely up to you. I can't go around trying to decipher how much work each person put in. If that is all, I bid you all good day. Class dismissed."

Everyone made their way to the courtyard to wait for the next class. Next, for Albus, was Transfiguration, but he had lunch first. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and swiveled around.

"You forgot your bag again Mr. Dumbledore," Professor Prince said, shoving it into his chest, as she too made her way to the Great Hall for lunch period.

Albus sat down at the Gryffindor table, just as the golden plates filled themselves with delicious food. He took out his book on Ancient Runes to do some studying, and a piece of parchment to write the translations. All of a sudden, the parchment he was about to write in the first translation did something very odd. Words were forming on the parchment before his very eyes.

_Hello Albus. Meet me on the seventh floor corridor this evening at eight. Bring your bag and potions book. I'll bring my cauldron and some ingredients._

_Desdemona _

Albus did the only thing that made sense: write back. He quickly dipped his quill into the bottle of ink he had sitting out, and scrawled a reply.

**Eight o'clock? Uh, sure. I'll bring my cauldron too, just in case. Well, actually, it's already there --**

_I know it is. Bring all your ingredients then. We want our potion to be the best, don't we? I'll bring some books too then. You best do the same. See you then._

With that, all the ink on the page disappeared. Albus suddenly understood why he had left his bag in the dungeon after Potions; she had taken it, in order to bewitch the parchment or something.

Transfiguration went well, extremely well. Albus had, again, transfigured today's object with a mere brandish of his wand. Professor Slughorn said he ought to teach the class one day. Perhaps he should. . .

Eight o'clock came quicker than Albus thought possible. He had just started to gather together his potions things when he looked at his watch, and was shocked to see that it was fifteen minutes until eight. If he hurried, he could probably make it in time.

Albus skidded to a halt as he reached the seventh floor corridor, with a stitch in his side from running the whole way there. He swiveled around, looking for a good place to set down his things.

"There you are," said Grindelwald, carrying her cauldron that was packed to the brims with books and ingredients. "Where shall we. . . ?" Albus turned around, looking for the best place to brew their potion without being disturbed. He turned around again, and again. As though it had been there the whole time, a golden door suddenly appeared in the wall.

"What the. . . ?" he asked himself, more than Grindelwald. He cautiously made his way to the door, and creaked it open. He gasped, and turned back to Grindelwald who looked almost frightened. Albus beckoned to her, and she followed him in to the room, while still keeping her distance. She too gasped.

"What is this place?" she stammered.

"I have no idea. . ." The room was very big, and lined with thousands upon thousands of dusty old books, by the looks, were all potions books. Every now and then, there was a shelf devoted strictly to ingredients. At the far end of the room there was a gigantic cauldron, that looked like a person could fit inside. There was a chart on the wall covered in alchemy symbols and meanings, and different things of that sort.

"This is extraordinary," Albus murmured, almost forgetting the girl standing behind him, cowering in the great vastness of the room they had entered. Grindelwald walked cautiously towards the many bookcases lining the walls, and pulled an exceptionally battered, old one down and began reading. Albus moved towards the far end of the room, set his stuff down, and he too pulled a book of it's shelf.

"Dumbledore, this potion looks perfect," Grindelwald whispered, still in a state of awe.

"You can call me Albus if you want," he replied, hardly noticing what she had said.

"Oh, right. Um, you can call me Deedee if you like. That's what my mother used to call me."

"Alright. As for the potion, I was thinking more along the lines of an Amortentia potion."

"Amortentia?" Deedee asked incredulously. "Oh, someone else is bound to do that one. We want something that isn't in an ordinary book. Something not even in the library."

"Well. . . I suppose. But I don't really want to try anything dangerous," Albus said hesitantly. Deedee snorted.

"Not dangerous? What are you, a first year? I was thinking. . . perhaps we could make our own potion," she said, a red glint in her eye that Albus had never seen before.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, almost dreading her response. It was bound to be something either illegal, or against school rules.

"This book looks amazing. We should base it off this potion here, only, tweak it a bit," she said, the glint turning rather maniacal. She tossed the book to Albus. "Page three hundred and ninety four," she hissed. Albus turned to the page in question, and dread even worse than he had anticipated spread through him. Candles flickered from brackets on the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere.

The potion she had suggested looked more complicated than any Albus had seen. It was called The Essence of Death.

_Eye of newt, _

_toe of frog, _

_wool of bat, _

_tongue of dog, _

_adder's fork, _

_blind worm's sting,_

_lizard's leg, _

_howlet's wing, _

_fillet of a fenny snake,_

_scale of dragon,_

_tooth of wolf,_

_witch's mummy,_

_maw and gulf_

The potion looked dreadful, the effect even worse. If done correctly, it should replay the worst memories of one's life, almost like a dementor. What it was that Deedee wished to tweak, was unknown.

"What do you think?" she asked eagerly. "Professor Prince should love it."

"Two questions: one, how are we going to test it, two, what precisely did you want to tweak?"

"Well, I thought we could tweak it just enough to make the replayed memories seem more like a nightmare rather than actually memories. Though, of course they would be bases off memories. Sound good? The only trouble would be getting the tooth of a werewolf. I wonder if Prince has one in her personal store. . ."

The potion they were making was basically the center of focus in Albus' life at the time. He really did want to do it right if he was going to make it at all. It's not like he would purposely do it wrong just because he greatly opposed the mere idea of it.

Nearly every evening after dinner he would bring his books up to the secret room and study while Deedee hovered around the room trying to make everything perfect before actually starting to make the potion, which, incidentally, they hadn't started yet. There was so much preparation involved that it had been two whole weeks since their first meeting. It would be ready to begin this evening, at last. The two of them had kept up their strange means of communication with the bewitched parchment, in order to discuss tactics of making this potion perfectly. As said, it was the center of focus at this particular point in their lives.

"It's ready! It's ready!" Deedee shrieked excitedly that evening. The gigantic cauldron they had decided on using was sitting over a bundle of flame. Albus set down the book, and walked over just as Deedee poured the base substance in. As a base, they were using the suggested Essence of Murtlap, a calming, soothing liquid that was used to deceive the drinker. It began to bubble.

"Now, let's see," said Albus, opening the book again. "We let the eye of newt stew in frog spawn over the full moon, so that's ready to put in. That's supposed to broil for seven minutes and fifteen seconds before the toe of frog goes in. Where's the toe of frog?" he asked, looking up.

"Right here," Deedee replied, holding up a jar with the frog's toe. "And we already let that soak in the murtlap on the week proceeding the quarter moon. Then it's supposed to stew for approximately three days before we put the bat's wool shavings in. So we're set to go for tonight."

They added the appropriate ingredients for that evening, and were just sitting down after counting out the seven minutes and fifteen seconds, having been on edge the entire time.

"Whew! I didn't think we'd make it there for a second," Deedee said, wiping sweat from her brow. "So I guess we can check it tomorrow then."

"I'll check in the morning, and then again after lunch, and maybe you can check it before dinner, and after your nighttime Head patrol. Sound good?" She nodded.

The potion was due in two days. It was basically finished, except that it still had yet to be "tweaked." Albus was still unsure what exactly Deedee had in mind for what to do to it.

"Well, Melantha and I are making a draft of Felix Felicis," Gideon stated proudly. "What about you Albus?"

"Oh, Dee-- Grindelwald wanted to make this creepy potion. I just assemble the ingredients, and let them soak over the full moon, or whatever, and she'll add them to the potion as needed. It's called Essence of Death. I have a feeling though, she's going to add a few secret ingredients."

"Golly. You're sure to win, I mean, the two best potion-makers in the class. . ." At Albus' questioning look, he went on. "I heard a rumor that Prince was planning an award for the best potion. What are you making Oliver? And who was your partner?"

"I'm with that Slytherin bloke Yvette Borgin. We're just making Amortentia. But she's making me do all the work, and I'm pretty sure I was supposed to put some ashwinder in, so we're bound to fail." Gideon and Albus snorted, but both managed to pull it into a hacking cough. It was common knowledge that ashwinder was the core ingredient when making any sort of a love potion.

All of a sudden, the bag that was in Albus' lap burned red hot. He quickly opened it and found that the source of the heat was his bit of bewitched parchment.

_I think it's ready. You want to come up to add the other ingredients and test it out?_

**Alright. I'll be right up.**

Albus made a hurried excuse that he had left one of his books in the library to a very confused Gideon and Oliver, and ran flat out to the seventh floor. He walked passed a certain point in the wall three times, and the golden door appeared. He opened it and bolted inside.

"There you are," Deedee said. "Now, I was thinking of putting a dash of the Draught of Living Death in. I've already made some. And perhaps a touch of _this,_" she said, shaking a small glass vile in her hand. At first glance, it looked to be empty, but it had some sort of substance, unrecognizable to Albus.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled. She smiled evilly.

"'Tis a memory. I can't just now tell you of what. You'll just have to find out when we test the potion." Before Albus could object, she had already dropped the last and final ingredient into the sizzling cauldron. It started fizzing violently, causing Albus to jump back in fright.

"This is it!" Deedee shrieked excitedly, on the tips of her toes peering into the cauldron. "Alright. I guess we should try it out." With a whisk of her wand, a ladle was dangling in mid air. She set her wand on the nearest book shelf, took hold of the suspended ladle, and scooped it into the potion, which was now emitting little bursts of flame. The second the ladle touched the surface, it quickly changed it's appearance to that of an emerald, glowing, rather innocent looking drink. It was almost as if it was trying to look inviting, and pleasant.

"Deedee – are you sure? I don't think it's a good idea. . ." Albus said weakly, entranced by the emerald glow. She slowly started to tip the ladle to her mouth, but Albus grabbed her by the shoulder, snatched the ladle out of her quivering hand, and drank the potion.

Memories began to swirl before his eyes. He could see his mother. . . and his father. . . They were both arguing about something. . .

"Stop your bickering!" Albus shouted. They both turned towards him, frightened. He raised his wand, ready to strike. _No, I don't want to. Don't make me. . . Please don't make me. I'll do anything. Take me instead. I don't want to. . ._

"_Avada Kedavra!" _he shouted, and both his parents fell flat on their backs, dead.

"Albus! What did you do?" came the voice of Aberforth. _No! Not him too. . ._

"Get out of it, Aberforth. Don't meddle in things you don't understand," Albus stated firmly. With that, he murdered his beloved brother. _Nooooooo! Why? Why? KILL ME!_

"Albus! _Albus!_ Wake up," said a hysterical voice just ahead of him.

_I'll kill you too Desdemona. You've caused nothing but heartache. Please, move aside. Move aside you silly girl. _A firmer voice took hold. _No. Please don't make me kill her too. She's been so nice to me._

"ALBUS! WAKE UP!" A stream of ice cold water rained down upon him. "Are you alright? Did it work?" Deedee asked urgently.

"Are you _insane?_ What are you playing at? That was a nightmare!" Albus roared, fury breaking his smooth surface. He had not been this angry in many years. Or at least, he'd never let it show.

"What do you mean? The potion worked!"

"You could have killed me! Or worse, I could have killed you! Do you have any idea how danger--"

"Calm down Albus. Everything is fine now," Deedee said calmly. Albus was only now aware that he had toppled over, and was now lying on his back, with Deedee bent awkwardly over him. Cold sweat was pouring down his face. Deedee's face didn't look remotely worried or sympathetic. If anything, she looked triumphant.

"You and your crazy ideas!" Albus went on. ". . .demonic, perverted--" His mouth was blocked; he could no longer rave about how crooked this girl was. The girl who had just locked lips with him. Albus tried to sit up, but couldn't. He broke away from her, and she looked into his eyes, quite nonplussed.

"Good night Albus," she said, getting up. She left him there on the floor, confused. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but certainly not this. He felt sort of used. Or perhaps, Deedee felt that she had just embarrassed him or something. Whatever it was, it was rather awkward. Albus sat up and rubbed his eyes. He never wanted to take that potion again. They knew it worked, and that was all they needed to know. One of the greatest curiosities of the world, was what future held in store. This was not to be the last time Albus had to drink Essence of Death.

The next day, Deedee and Albus didn't talk much. They past each other in the corridors a few times in between classes, but didn't say anything. It wasn't until later in the evening when the bewitched piece of parchment burned in Albus' school bag. He quickly took it out, and read what Deedee had written.

_Sorry about last night. It was rather awkward, you know, just leaving you after you'd tried out the potion. How was it, by the way?_

**Utterly dreadful, **Albus wrote, in swooping cursive. **It made me feel like someone else; sort of like I wanted to kill. It was the worst feeling I've ever felt. **

_I'm sorry you had to go through that. Did it effect you straight away, or was it a gradual change?_

**It's hard to explain. Moving on. . .**

_Okay, I suppose you really don't want to talk – or, write about it. I could go on for hours about the potion. I was just awful to watch. It was an extraordinary experience though. But, the way you were screaming. . . Makes you wonder. . ._

**Now really Desdemona, I thought we just agreed to get off the subject. And it doesn't make you wonder if you were the one trying it. I know perfectly well what I saw and I don't wish to share. Moving on. . .**

_Okay, okay. Talk about touchy! I'm just very curious, that's all! I want to know what it was like--_

**Don't you dare go and try it. You'll regret it, and it might give you bad ideas.**

_Did you call me 'Desdemona'?_

**Well, I figured it would have a greater effect on you. You know, it _is_ your name. . .**

_Oh, alright. I suppose that will have to do. Names are so interesting. They can bare so much meaning. What's your full name?_

**Albus Brian Dumbledore. Why?**

_Oh, just curious. I'm always so curious. I just have to know how much there is, or what lies beneath, or how far or deep something can go. _

**What's your full name?**

_Desdemona Lilith Grindelwald, and proud of it. _

**Hey, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday? We could go to the Hogshead Pub, if you want.**

_Sounds lovely._

Saturday came quickly, and Albus was just finishing some last minute homework when he looked out the window and saw a few people heading towards Hogsmeade. He had lost track of time reading a fascinating book on lycanthropy. The Essence of Death potion had been turned in the previous day, and they would find out how they did on Monday. Albus was anxious to find out what Professor Prince thought of it, seeing as though it was ever so slightly made up.

Albus turned up his collar against the wind. It was mid December and snow was pelting towards the ground like there was no tomorrow. He made his way down the street and eventually made it to the dingy little Hogshead Pub. He didn't much like it there, but he knew Deedee did, and after all, it was all about making the other person happy, right? This theory had gotten him this far, so it seemed to be successful.

"There you are Albus. Get inside!" Deedee called towards him. She was standing in the doorway. Albus got inside as quickly as he could, and found that Deedee had already ordered him a butterbeer. It was so warming taking his first sip of the pleasant drink. Deedee was scanning through the pages of today's copy of _The__Daily Prophet._

"Anything interesting today, Dee?" Deedee peered up at Albus over the top of the paper.

"They've announced the candidates for the sixth and seventh Wizengamot chairs. I think Professor Prince should get it."

"Prince was nominated? You're kidding!" Albus said, aghast, while pulling his chair closer to Deedee's in order to see the paper for himself.

**Candidates For the Wizengamot High Court**

Madam Evelyn Prince, _writes Araminta Meliflua, special correspondent, _has been announced to have been nominated for the sixth open chair in the Wizengamot Court. She is currently Potions Mistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and is also in good place to take over as Headmistress after the departure of Phineas Nigellus if the Wizengamot nomination proves to be in vain. The nominations were announced in the early hours of the morning, and barely made it to the press. "I just want to be able to give justice to those who deserve it, and delve deep to discover the truth," says Prince, at a press conference this morning. She is in good league to take the place of Dilys Derwent (official Wizengamot name, Rhondin Wulfric) who was also a previous Headmaster of Hogwarts, who announced his departure of the High Court on the sixteenth of December the last.

Others in the running are The Misuse of Magic Office's Griselda Marchbanks, and The Department of Mysteries popular Unspeakable, Tiberius Ogden. The Ministry has not released at this time any further candidates.

The Ministry of Magic has also refused to release the name of the other retiring Wulfric member. It has been speculated though that it might be Alambil Wulfric (birth name, Jennet Quibble), who at this time approaches her one hundred seventh birthday.

For those who don't know the rules of the High Court, let me explain.

There has always been seven members, or judges shall I say. It is up to them to pass decrees (the most recent one being the one legalizing Muggle hunting), and on special occasions, determine the fate of those accused. The Minister or Ministress of Magic is able to impose on few accounts, but that makes an unlucky eight. Once nominated (how, unknown), the witch or wizard finally selected to join the High Court is dubbed a new name. The same person or thing that chooses them also chooses their name. The High Court members are always given the surname of Wulfric. That name is only to be used in court, and they are allowed to keep their birth name on regular days. Their Wizengamot name is then stuck between their first name and their middle name. For example, judge Alambil's court name is just as you would guess: Alambil Wulfric. On regular days though, it would be Jennet Alambil Wulfric Beatrix Quibble. Who makes the rules, I haven't the faintest idea.

The selection of new judges on the Wizengamot High Court is to take place on July the third.

"Well that was one heck of a long article. Very informative; I like that writer," said Albus.

"Ah, but little do you know, the blurb about legalizing Muggle Hunting was her idea. She's a Black; Cassiopeia's Aunt, I think," Deedee replied. "There's know way any other writer for _The Daily Prophet_ would have let a blurb like that just slip in."

"So, do you want to go anywhere? I need to clear my head. I think I had too much butterbeer," Albus said, rubbing his head.

"You get high on _butterbeer?_" Deedee asked incredulously. "You only drank _one_ bottle," she said in an undertone. "Alright, we'll go to Madam Puddifoot's to get some coffee."

They made their way slowly through the snow to the cozy little coffee shop, heads down against the wind. When they entered a burst of snow made it's way through the door causing several customers to turn their already pink, wind-swept faces down.

"Hello, m'dears. How can I help y'all on this fine chillin' day?" asked a rosy-cheeked woman, who had a slight Swedish accent, bustling over to their table.

"Two coffees," Deedee said flatly. Now that they were in a restaurant that comprised of adequate lighting, Albus noticed that Deedee was wearing dark makeup around her eyes. She then noticed his stare, and delved into conversation.

"So I think Prince liked the potion. Her expression when she first saw it. . ." Albus wasn't listening. Those eyes. Those beautiful, yet some how horrid eyes. They told a story, yet it was as if it had yet to be translated from some foreign language.

". . . saw the horrible version of what's-his-face's love potion, I couldn't help it. It was just so funny!" Yet laughter shown in the face, it didn't quite reach the eyes. They were quite unaffected by their surroundings, which was slightly unnerving.

"Did you hear me? Albus, are you even listening?"

"Wha? Oh, right. Yeah, Prince did look rather astounded."

"So I think this little potion-project has really made a difference. I mean, we're friends! Of all people in the world to become friends! It's kind of sad that it's over now, you know --"

"'Scuse me ma'am, sir, your coffee's ready," said a small girl. "S'there anything else I can get y'all?" Deedee looked like she was trying very hard not to curse this girl for interrupting.

"No, we're alright thanks," she said, in a very forced-calm way.

"Who're you? I've never seen you here before," Albus said curiously. The girl looked taken aback by his politeness after she saw the horrible expression on Deedee's face.

"My Aunt sent for me from Sweden. She's own the shop, she does. She said she wants 'The legacy to live on.' See, she doesn't have no kids of her own."

"How very interesting. Now if you don't mind. . ." Deedee said flatly.

"Good to meet you. . . ah, what was your name?" Albus said, ignoring Deedee's tuts.

"M'name's Mary. Um, good day to you sir, and ma'am," with that, she scurried away.

"You know Deedee, you're not very social, are you? You could have been a little nicer," Albus said crossly. She made a sour face, and they finished their coffee.

Everyone seemed to be in the stores, for the streets were rather empty. The snow was coming down even harder than before, disabling one's vision to perhaps a foot in front of them. Deedee didn't seem to want to go in a store, so they took advantage of the streets being vacant. They took shelter under a tree, and after wiping some snow off their faces the they looked at each other.

"What now?" Albus asked, while moving closer in order to stay warm. Deedee turned towards him, and again he fell under the spell cast by her haunting eyes. They held secrets, terrible truths, something you couldn't imagine; but what? Even the color was odd. . . Her eyes were like a glittery brown, very dark brown. They were closer together now. Closer. . .closer yet. A smile played across the face of the woman standing before Albus. Her fair skin made the snow look filthy, yet somehow there was a sick, no, troubled shade of gray singeing her cheeks.

Before Albus knew it, he had kissed her. All he remembered afterwards in the Common Room by the toasty fire was that it had been a very cold kiss. He wished now that it had lasted longer, though he wasn't sure why. He didn't even know if he loved her. He did enjoy her company, though _she_ seemed to always be the one in charge of things. Did he love her? Did she love him? Was love a real thing? Albus wondered what Deedee was thinking about at that very moment, and in the Slytherin Common Room, she was wondering the same about him.

While life, love, and other mysteries went on, school progressed just as well as any. The romance between the two most brilliant and popular students went by unnoticed. They wanted to keep it secret. They would sometimes go to Hogsmeade together, but generally in the evening. They were only allowed to stay out late because they were Head Boy and Head Girl. It became known to the entire school about their potion, and how pleased Professor Prince had been, which made a few people suspicious of Albus, wondering if he was going out with Deedee.

"I love you, my princess," Albus said quietly one evening in The Hog's Head pub. Deedee's eyes snapped to the young man sitting next to her, and her eyes seemed to slacken, if that makes sense. Albus wasn't sure, but they looked like the were glistening slightly. _Had no one ever sad that to her before? _She quickly turned away to cover up the fact.

"I've never felt like this for anyone before now Albus," she said weakly. "You're the only person who has ever loved me, you know."

"I thought I should tell you. I wouldn't want you to go to bed tonight not knowing. If I didn't tell you, you may never know. Terrible prices must be paid for breaking the bondage of truth." It was obvious now that the woman's eyes were full of tears. It was a moment like no other. No price could ever be put on it. It was one of the best moments of their life, yet it felt as if it shouldn't be. There were many secrets still kept in this relationship; Albus knew she wasn't lying just now, but she often did; Deedee had an ulterior motive in getting to know him; and soon things would change.


End file.
